


Lift And Separate

by ProfessorFlimflam



Category: Holby City
Genre: Berena Final Countdown, Countdown: support, Don’t get too excited though, F/F, Lingerie, M&S, Support, bosom buddies - Freeform, bra fitting, marks and sparks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorFlimflam/pseuds/ProfessorFlimflam
Summary: Her date with the infuriating whirlwind that is Fleur Fanshawe having gone well and truly down the toilet, Bernie is sceptical about her blind date Fleur subsequently arranges for her. But if she’s going to meet this mysterious silver vixen, she might as well do it in new undies.My good friend Wonko told you all about the time Serena met Bernie while they were both getting a bra fitting, right? Here’s a remix of Bosom Buddies, from Bernie’s point of view.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75
Collections: The Final Countdown





	Lift And Separate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wonko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bosom Buddies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509292) by [Wonko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko). 



> Me: Oh, tomorrow’s prompt is “support” - I thought I’d do something about bras.  
> Wonko: Oi, I wrote about bras, you thief!  
> Me: Fine. If I’m going to steal, I’ll do it properly.

She had nearly bailed on this date before it started, and now, looking crossly at herself in the mirror of the cloakroom, she asked herself why she hadn’t. Oh, the brunette was charming, confident, sexy - and _infuriating_. Bernie knew she hadn’t hidden her irritation well, but really, the woman had no inhibitions, and couldn’t take a hint to save her life. Why did she need to know so much about her, anyway? Question after question after impertinent question! She briefly considered sneaking out of a different door, but manners won out over comfort, and she straightened her shoulders and made her way back to the table.

“There you are! I was beginning to think you’d done the dirty on me,” the woman said with a sly look, and rather than deny it, Bernie decided honesty was the best policy.

“I did consider it,” she confessed, “but I gave myself a little pep talk. Listen, I don’t know about you, but this feels like a bit of a non-starter for me. Shall we stop calling it a date and just call it dinner? I don’t want to lead you on.”

“Well, you don’t mince your words. That thing about knowing thirteen ways to kill with your bare hands wasn’t about protecting me, was it? It was a warning.” She sighed dramatically. “I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed - look at you, you’re gorgeous! - but sadly, I think you’re right. No reason we can’t enjoy a good meal, though - you’re lovely company when you’re not trying to dodge my best efforts to seduce you.”

Bernie had met Fleur at a networking event for female surgeons of a particular persuasion, having seen the discreet advert for Ladies Who Lance in the staff bulletin at the hospital where she was currently working as a locum. She had mustered up the courage to go and have a look - she hadn’t been intending to stay, but as soon as she walked into the room, Fleur had closed in on her like a lioness spotting a lone antelope, and there had been no escape. Her new friend was small, but an absolute force of nature, and Bernie went home that evening wondering how, on her very first tentative foray into what she still thought of as something of a _demi-monde_ , she had given Fleur not only her phone number, but also her agreement to going on a date.

Ins spite of Bernie’s blunt talking, they ended dinner on a friendly note, and agreed that they would stay in touch. Fleur may have been disappointed, but she was not a sore loser, and promised to keep an eye out for anyone she thought Bernie might gel with more comfortably, and it was only a few days later that she called her in a state of great excitement.

“I’ve got just the woman for you, Major! Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

Bernie had pressed for details, but Fleur was determined that both she and her blind date should retain an element of mystery, and rather than give anything as practical as a name or a photo, she simply told Bernie to be on the lookout for a silver vixen, whatever _that_ looked like. On her own part, all she was permitted to reveal was a photo of her hand, wrist adorned with a woven band that she sometimes wore, displaying the regimental colours of her former unit. She supposed that at least this way, she could keep the wristband covered until she identified the silver vixen - she could always slink away unnoticed if need be.

***

It had been years - decades - since she had last gone on a date (she was very definitely _not_ counting dinner with Fleur), but since she had demobbed only a few months earlier, she had a reasonably fresh wardrobe to select an outfit from. Her style was simple but fairly elegant in a understated sort of way, and all she needed to do was to pair up a nice blouse with a pair of her trademark close fitting black jeans. 

Her underwear drawer, on the other hand, could do with a bit of an overhaul. Handwashing her smalls in the desert had meant that while everything matched, it was only because all her bras and knickers were a uniform grey now. While she wasn’t expecting to have either of them on display by the end of the night, she decided it was time to replace the more unsavoury specimens, and she headed out to the only place she could think of - Marks and Spencers.

***

It wasn’t until she was in the cubicle, the young woman looking expectantly at her with a tape measure in hand, that it occurred to Bernie that she was going to have to strip off. She had no false modesty - the best part of thirty years in the Army had put paid to that - but she was horribly conscious of the prominent scar that followed the line of her breastbone. It had healed nicely, but it would be a while yet before it faded, and other than her consultant and the nurses who had provided her post-op wound care, no-one else had seen it yet.

She gave herself a little talking to - these girls must have seen far worse than her scar before, and they were professionals, after all - but no sooner had she unbuttoned her flannel shirt than the girl (was there still such a thing as the Youth Training Scheme?) gasped in horror and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness!” Bernie didn’t know which of them was more mortified, and she was ready to clutch her shirt to her throat and walk out, but the woman in the neighbouring cubicle had evidently heard the little indiscretion, and let out an _incredibly_ sexy laugh. Well, it was more of a snort, really, but the flirtatious exchange that followed came in a low, husky voice that had surely been earned through less than virtuous means ( _booze, fags or both?_ Bernie wondered).

The banter with her invisible neighbour had put her much more at her ease, and by the time the sales girl returned with a handful of bras in the right size, Bernie had forgotten all about her discomfiture. To her own amusement, having flunked her date with Fleur, and rather dreading this evening’s with the mystery woman, by the time she got home, Bernie found herself with yet another woman’s phone number - oh, but she wished she had made this discovery about her sexuality years ago! It seemed to be much easier to pick up women than find a half decent man to hook up with, not that she had the slightest inclination to do _that_ any more. Still, clearly she wasn’t too old to sow a few last wild oats, she thought smugly - and there was a whole new field to explore.

***

To her absolute delight, the silver vixen she had been told to look out for had turned out to be Serena, her new bosom buddy from M&S (Serena’s joke, while corny as anything, tickled them both). She felt they had made a real connection this morning, first through the flimsy wall of their adjoining cubicles, then over coffee and cake: and how very marvellous it was to find that it was more than a meeting of minds! Kissing a woman - kissing Serena - had been an absolute revelation, and it more than dispelled any lingering doubts she might have had about whether she was really attracted to women, or just having some sort of sapphic midlife crisis. It was the real deal, alright, and it felt as though she was finally coming home to herself.

They managed to cool things down enough after that to talk - for hours. There was so much they had in common that it seemed unbelievable that they hadn’t met each other before this morning. There were mutual acquaintances among their colleagues, and they agreed that they would keep things between them quiet for the time being, until they both felt less anxious about becoming the latest low hanging fruit on the grapevine. 

“Can you imagine, though, when word does get out? Ric Griffin, say - _oh ho, so how did my two favourite ladies meet?_ \- just picture his face when we tell him we were both topless at the time!” Serena wheezed.

“Oh!” Bernie laughed, “That reminds me - don’t ask me why - I went for a bra fitting not long after my youngest was born, you know how everything changes - and I had to take Cameron into the fitting room with me because I was on my own with him. He thought it was the funniest thing ever, and kept chanting at the top of his voice, _Mummy’s got boobies, Mummy’s got boobies!_ \- for about ten minutes non-stop. I must remind him about that,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.

Serena chuckled. “I remember having to chase Elinor round and round the ladieswear department once - she’d put a very nice pair of lacy knickers across her face like a veil, and the matching bra over her head like earmuffs and was careering about making aeroplane noises. God knows what she was meant to be - she was about three, I think. I bought them just to get out of there quickly!”

They laughed until they cried, and laughed some more.

“Speaking of fittings,” Bernie said between joyful hoots of laughter, “do you remember what you said this morning?”

Serena wiped her eyes, still giggling. “This morning? I said lots of things this morning - which bit were you thinking of?”

Hoping she wasn’t going too fast, Bernie said, “You told that ironing board of a sales woman, _I don’t mind a bit of rough, but I expect to be bought a drink first, at least._ ” She picked up the bottle of wine they’d been sharing and upended it over Serena’s wine glass, shaking off the last few drops. 

Looking and sounding more confident than she felt, she said “Would you like to come back to mine?”

Serena didn’t say a word, but picking up her wine glass, she knocked it back in a single gulp, wiped her mouth on a napkin and stood up, crooking her arm for Bernie to take.

As they left the bar, Bernie stopped dead and looked at Serena in mock horror.

“Fleur’s going to be absolutely _insufferable_ , isn’t she?”


End file.
